


Murder Ballad

by lalalalalawhy



Category: The Body Electric - Hurray For The Riff Raff (Song)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Epistolary, F/F, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-07-12 01:42:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7079425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lalalalalawhy/pseuds/lalalalalawhy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Said you're gonna shoot me down, put my body in the river.</i><br/>This is what happened after. This is settling the score.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Murder Ballad

**Author's Note:**

  * For [evewithanapple](https://archiveofourown.org/users/evewithanapple/gifts).



> Because I’m pulling from a canon of murder ballads, the canon-based violence may be disturbing or triggering. As warning, a queer relationship is disrupted by violence.  
> [The Body Electric](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_KvXteZkByE) by Hurray for the Riff Raff.

My darling Delia,

My aunt tells me you are awake, that you have said my name, and that you do not remember much more than that. Would that you could remain so, peaceful and healing, unburdened by the truth.

I often wish I could forget.

I would leave you in peace and tell you nothing but sweetness, but the thought of you thinking I had left you for no reason, or for the love another -- it haunts me. It cannot stand. And so I will tell you the terrible truth of where I have gone, in the best way I know how.

Be warned, my darling. This is not a happy story. When we are reunited, I will tell you only of kindness, of grace, of the laughter we shared. But for now there is not time for such light words and thoughts. 

There is evil in this world, an evil that must be lanced with precision and care, much like a doctor would a boil. Your sawbones doctor comes and tends to your wounds, the stump of your shoulder, and ensures that it does not become gangrenous, does she not? And if, heaven forbid, your wound did begin to fester… she would cut and bleed it until it could properly heal.

I am much the same, and I feel no remorse. If anything, I feel longing to have it be done and over, and to return to you.

This is a story of brutal men and their guns and your bones and our hair. There is a river, falling leaves. Justice. Vengeance. And finally, blood that is not ours.

* * *

It began with a man who saw something not meant for his eyes. We were at the river, my love, do you remember? I thought we were alone out there -- it always seemed to be just us two when we were together. But here came no-good Tom, sticking his trouble-loving nose where it didn't belong. He lurked behind a bush for a bit, witnessing our private love. He peeped around it, and I saw his eyes flash, first with confusion, then with hurt, and finally with a dark and deadly rage like I’d never seen before.

My love, your eyes were closed and so, even the memories someday do return, you will not remember his eyes. I have no such luck. I saw hate settle upon his soul that day, like a damp fungus spreading over his eyes, sucking out all joy and shared smiles and leaving behind only ill intent and malice. I saw it that day, and sometimes I see it still, though he is long gone.

You were new in town then, my love, but I had known Tom since we were very young. We played together in the dirt outside the schoolhouse. He was a dull boy destined to be a dull man, but he never seemed cruel. He'd been sweet on me, but I never felt the same and did not lead him on. Hope can be dangerous, Delia, do not doubt.

Of course, once you came to town, my darling, I would never have anyone else. The first time we met -- your red hair cascading over strong brown shoulders, your eyes dancing -- I stumbled over my own name and your laugh was like a ringing bell. I felt things I’d never felt before, a warmth in my heart, in my soul, and in my belly. I needed to know more of you, every inch. You may not remember this, my sweet, but you lit up my life. You remember how long winter is, yes? It feels as though the world will be dark and gray forever, and it lasts until warmth is just a memory. And then you see the snowbells peeking out their pale heads, and soon the sun comes out and shines down on your cheeks and you can’t help but laugh with the joy of it?

Seeing you was like that. Every time.

It seemed everyone in town knew how goofy I’d got over you, and everyone approved, even if they didn’t understand. My aunt, Frankie -- you know her now, don’t you? -- told me to chase my heart, and that men were no good anyway. 

Everyone knew but Tom Dooley. Tom Dooley saw us there, out by the river, and then he turned tail and ran. I knew it bode no good, but I didn’t realize what it meant until it was too late.

(My darling, I wish I knew it then.)

When we returned to town, smiling our secret smiles meant only for each other, we saw Tom once again. His eyes now spoke of murder.

He’d grabbed his gun, the coward, and shot me first. Then he shot you.

Tom dragged us both down to the river. He fouled it with our blood, and left us for dead.

But I wasn’t dead. I woke up and pulled my body from the river, dripping and half frozen. I coughed the water out and stuffed September leaves into the hole he’d left in my side. Then I saw you.

My girl, my girl. What had happened to you. I will never have the words. Your hair, matted with blood and dirt. Your face, pale and ashen, scared me more than I’d ever seen. Your right arm, it hung unnaturally, trailing in the current, the shoulder shattered and useless.

I pulled us up and out of the river and ran to get Aunt Frankie -- she would know what to do. As soon as she saw you, she ran to her friend, the sawbones doctor. Someone would know how to fix you, how to fix it. They would have to.

Sawbones took your arm clean off and told me to rest. I could not. I would settle the score, if it’s the last thing I did. He should never have left me alive.

When I could stand, and walk, I asked Frankie to help. She has always known things that I do not, things she shouldn’t be able to know. She knows when the storms will be bad, when the heifers will calve, and which plants to give to the sick and dying. Surely she would know how I could exact justice.

We took your arm, my darling, without asking. For that I am sorry. Though I think you would not have minded. We took your arm and we made it into something that was not you. A weapon, an instrument of violence, made of your bone and hair. A weapon with which I could kill Tom Dooley.

I used your arm, my darling, and I came for him in the night. He went, screaming, into an eternal night, borne off by us together, hand in hand.

I knelt then, and cried tears of relief, believing I was done, that it was done, then. Deed for deed. But my aunt wrote to me that you were not yet awake, and that there was another man, with another gun. We were needed, you see, to lead another man with another gun who had killed another woman to justice. Hand in hand.

I will fight -- we will fight -- until it is done.

* * *

That is my story, Delia. Our story. I’m sorry for what it is, but I am also glad. If it were not our story, I would not have you.

I will return for you, Delia, as soon as I am able. After the bleeding is done.

With love forever,

Your Laurie

**Author's Note:**

> According to [this NPR article](http://www.npr.org/sections/therecord/2014/12/11/370125443/the-political-folk-song-of-the-year), the original song, [The Body Electric](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_KvXteZkByE), is meant to be a reaction to normalization of violence against the bodies of women and people of color, and a refutation of the weaponization of the body. I was left with the image of one of the wronged women "settling the score," as the song says. 
> 
> I’m pulling from several murder ballads for this story. The main ones are “Delia’s Gone” and “Tom Dooley,” but there are also elements of “Twa Sisters” and “Frankie and Johnny.” Many of these ballads are based on real events and real people, and I mean absolutely no disrespect to their memories. 
> 
> I hope I did right by you, evewithanapple. Thank you for introducing me to a great new song.


End file.
